


Precipice

by wiltedartist



Category: Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-03-11 07:14:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3318737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wiltedartist/pseuds/wiltedartist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Varric Tethras has known this woman for about ten years, and she's never ceased to surprise him- especially with how she makes him feel. Varric / Hawke</p>
            </blockquote>





	Precipice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ashtastetherainbow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashtastetherainbow/gifts).



> this is for the feels ashley

She meant the world to him. 

Varric Tethras was not sure when it became fact that one look from the Champion of Kirkwall could make or break his day. He had seen her at her peak, and he'd seen her at her worst. Braided black hair and delicate makeup, she was an assassin if there had ever been one and a charmer if Bianca had ever breathed.

So when he saw her even worse than her worst, he was completely taken aback. Writing him letters to the Inquisition and keeping track of her through cryptic correspondence, she had never once let on that she was in such a sorry state. 

She cut it all off. Her prized, beautiful, completely meticulously cared for hair. She looked tired, beaten, and had almost no makeup on. Yet still, her dignity and presence impressed the Inquisitor and kept him hanging on her words. She really was his best friend, and his confidante. 

And she was suffering.

“I broke it off,” had been her only words regarding her elven lover of ...how many years? She was facing so much guilt because of an evil she did nothing more than try and kill herself. She was impossible- how many lives had she saved? How many would she save through the rest of her years? The worst part was she was drinking.

In 10 years he had never seen Hawke take a drink as well as she took the ones she drank now. She was miserable, and alone, and this Inquisition was just another way of dealing with it all. So one night, he sat next to her and ordered. “Another,” he would follow every time she did. And true to the past, she still couldn't outdrink him at all. 

“You're too much. . .” the drunken woman repeated to him. “You don't have to bother.”

“It's not a bother,” he would laugh and take her back to her room, tucking her into her bed and sitting a bucket beside her for the inevitable hurling. “It's never a bother.”

She would cry sometimes, but eventually the drinking lessened and so did the tears. She delicately trimmed the short hair, delicately lined her charcoal eyes, and delicately dressed as if she was the most beautiful woman in the world. Yet her mission still continued on as if she was marching to her death. 

The strongest woman in the world. The woman who meant the most to him. Whenever Cassandra brought her up he knew he had to protect her, had to keep the Seeker's hands away from Hawke's desperate hands, searching for a means to end her own life to atone for what she had done. He wouldn't let her lead Hawke to her executioner's blade.

In the Fade, the Inquisitor does not take Varric. Instead, he is behind with all the troops trying to aide the Grey Wardens. When the Inquisitor emerges and there is a moment, too many, where Hawke is not nearby, all he can ask is-

“Where is Hawke?” his voice quivers for a moment, the violet piercing eyes of the Inquisitor falling soft before he hears a cough and sees a limping Hawke, holding her side as Cassandra helps her walk. 

“Spiders. Poor Stroud. ..” she muttered as she looked to Varric. For Varric, his mind clicked as if being turned on for the first time in years. He took her hand and urges Cassandra to let the much taller woman lean on him, his shoulders supporting her waist firmly as she looked confused. 

“Stroud,” she muttered as she looked to Varric. He shook his head.

“Andraste's flaming ass Hawke, you're almost falling apart and all you can do is fall on the sword. Dying here wouldn't have brought back your father, your mother, your brother, wouldn't have stopped Corypheus and wouldn't have made the elf emotionally available,” he stated very factually as he sat her down on a nearby barrel and fetched bandages. Her mouth was gaping for a moment, and then she laughed. 

“Maker, have I really been so pathetic?” she laughed. Varric couldn't help but stare at her as she smiled, somehow regaining her confidence and poise, her eyes sparkling even as blood pooled against his fingers, pressing strongly to make it cease. 

“No, Hawke. Never pathetic,” she laughed at him, until she looked at his expression. Her look softened and she pulled him close for a hug.

“Thank you.” she said softly. He was content with that only for a moment, until he softly pulled her face closer, tilting her body a little too far down as he kissed her. To his ardent surprise, she did not pull away. After a moment, she parted from him, but the look in her eyes was far beyond demure. Andraste, how did anyone resist her?

“Not even a little pathetic?” she whispers hotly against his face. His hand is still on her side, all bandaged and safely protecting her.

“Not even a bit.”


End file.
